Candlelight and Embroidery
by bellagill92
Summary: They should have just stuck to the lace. It would have been a lot less humiliating (not to mention painful) that way. Jerza Love Fest 2014 - Day 3: Lace. (Part of the 'Our World' series. Can be read as a stand-alone fic.)


**A/N - Surprise! I wasn't supposed to post today but I got inspired and wrote this in like three hours. Fair warning, there is no **_**actual**_** hanky-panky shown on this fic… But plenty of hinting!**

**December 22, x792**

Never had Jellal Fernandes been sorrier to arrive home late.

He'd been supposed to arrive to Magnolia on the 10 p.m. train after a small job out of town with Meredy, Lucy, Happy and Natsu (the newest S-Class member of the guild, as of three days before) but the train had broken down midway through the trip, leaving them stranded for hours in the middle of nowhere.

By the time he'd finally gotten home, it was well past three in the morning and he almost couldn't believe he had actually made it there in the end. But then he'd entered their room and… well… there was quite the setting waiting for him.

The room was quiet and candles burned softly all over. The orange-y light was surprisingly intense and it made Erza's hair glow in a way that just didn't seem to belong to that world. And, as if her hair wasn't enchanting enough, there was the matter of the… outfit she wore at the moment.

Now, it should be addressed that she dressed up _a lot_ and not just for romantic purposes. He'd concluded that shortly after joining Fairy Tail, having seen her in maybe a dozen different disguises in the first month (armor not included), going from maid uniforms to builder outfits. Then they had started going out, moved in together and, in time, started an intimate relationship. Suffice to say, the outfit parade had grown exponentially and became far more daring. And, true, there were a handful of those outfits in particular that would drive him wild but, in most cases, he simply indulged her love for dressing up, seeing as it made her so adorably cheerful. But when it came to the one she was wearing at the moment, he couldn't classify it in either the wild or the ambivalent group. It was just… something else.

There was lace, sheer black lace in a rather simple, form-fitting bustier, contrasting charmingly with pale skin underneath. On her legs there were lacy black stockings climbing all the way up to her thighs, where they were tied with satiny garters. It took his breath away. Not in a way that he was about to lose his footing and jump her like some caveman (an effect her seduction armor often had) but instead in the way that he stared at her and thought that she looked absolutely beautiful in it. There was something about it… the sheerness of the delicate lace, the darkness of it in the candlelight… it enhanced her already noticeable beauty in a way that appealed deeply to him.

He wanted to touch her, kiss her, worship her, calm and softly like a prayer. He wanted to make her feel loved. He wanted to make it last all night.

But, of course, there was a certain issue with his desire. An issue that just happened to surround the fact that she was currently asleep.

So, there he stood, looking the sleeping beauty lying atop his bed, wanting nothing more than to worship her the way she deserved to be worshipped, yet unable to do so. She looked so peaceful, really (peaceful and wonderful), and he just didn't have it in him to wake her – honestly, what sort of bastard would that make him? Waking her up just for the sake of getting laid, even if lovingly so?

As such, he had no choice but to sort out the uncomfortable tightness at the front of his pants himself while his lace-clad goodness remained asleep atop the covers. It was a cruel, cruel universe… nothing less than he deserved. As such, he retreated to the bathroom and resigned himself to the fate of a cold shower.

Five minutes later, there he stood, head bent forward, forehead resting on the tile of the wall, shivering as the frigid water hit his skin. Inside, he was still both fantasizing about the lace and cursing his cruel fate. Hadn't it been for that blasted train he would have gotten the chance to lay in bed next to the most beautiful woman in Fiore (likely the world too) that night, worshiping every inch of her lace-clad body, removing it off her with the utmost care and then worshiping the skin underneath too.

Mmm… yes… wait, _no_. He couldn't keep thinking of that! Cold water or not, things would never… _go down_ as long as the mental picture of her barely-dressed body was firmly in place in his mind.

Bad! Bad, bad Jellal!

"_Why is this water so cold?_" He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Erza's voice behind him, having been too busy admonishing himself to notice her sneaking into the shower too. Before he had the time to turn around, though, two familiar mounds pressed themselves against his back and one of her arms was wrapped around his waist from behind, the other stretching itself towards the faucet, turning the hot water valve on without even touching it. "_Mmmm, better_," she mumbled against the back of his shoulder as the frigid water rain became comfortably warm.

Even though it felt really good to have her wrapped around him like that, he forced himself to turn around and face her. He mourned the fact that she was no longer wearing the lacy bustier or the tights, even though he had already felt the bareness of her body against his back and the shower water would certainly ruin it. But then again, he also rejoiced at the sight of all the uncovered skin being on display in front of him. She looked like something of a fire nymph, if those even existed, glorious body and beautiful flaming hair running down over her breasts, even if it was already damp from the falling water and sticking to the skin of her upper body. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was," she said. "But then I woke up and heard the shower running." And then, her expression turned into a glare. "You're late."

He groaned. "I know. I'm sorry. The train broke down."

He sounded really disappointed too, so Erza took pity on him and wrapped her arms around his waist again, resting the side of her head on his chest. He responded immediately, securing her in his arms as well. "I was told. Wendy heard about it on the news and sent word," she said. "I didn't think it would take this long to fix, so I tried to wait for you. Apparently I was more tired than I thought."

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I figured as much. I'm really sorry… You'd gotten all dressed up too," he said, his tone a bit strangled at the memory of all that pretty, pretty lace. Mavis… why was he so obsessed with lace now?

"Yes," she mournfully confirmed, looking up at him. "Had you woken me up, you might have had the chance to fully enjoy it, but you decided to take a shower instead." There was a hint of disappointment in her tone and he instantly regretted not having roused her from sleep rather than leaving her be. Idiot. He could have been pulling it off her with his teeth by then! "I assume the previous temperature of the water means you liked the way I looked in it, at least," Erza observed.

At those words, he blushed and looked away. Caught with his pants down. Literally. "I like the way you look in everything… but the lace did make you look particularly fascinating, yes," he admitted.

"Ah, I'll have to add more of it to my wardrobe, then," she gladly stated. "I have to admit I usually prefer leather to lace because it's so much more durable. It was Lucy who argued that the latter seemed more your style when we went shopping a few weeks ago. And since this special occasion was approaching, I thought I'd give it a try…"

"Wait, special occasion?" Oh, Mavis, had he forgotten something already? They had only been dating for a few months and he was already forgetting about anniversaries and stuff? What could it be? Something about their first date, first kiss or first time? No, that didn't seem to fit… Her birthday, maybe? No way, that was in April. What could it be then? What…?

"Your birthday."

He was puzzled, to put it simply. Heh? His what? No, that couldn't be it. "Erza, you know I don't exactly remember what my birthday is," he softly pointed out.

He had been six when he'd been taken to the tower. By then, although the fact that he was six had been firmly and proudly etched into his mind, the date in which such an event had taken place had been a mystery. All he had known at the time was that, every once in a while, he would be told to blow the candles on a cake and he would suddenly be older – his young mind simply had never bothered to register the actual date that would happen on as the fact that the cake would, eventually, be waiting for him had been such an irrevocable thing. Little had he known…

"I know," Erza replied. Her hand started to soothing brush its way up and down his spine – she was trying to comfort him for that even though there was nothing really to be comforted for – a lack of a birthday was something he had long gotten used to, so it didn't make him particularly sad anymore. "But you told me once that you thought it might be in winter because you remember there being snow when you celebrated back when you were a child. And yesterday it was the first day of winter, so…"

"Ah," he said, understanding the logic she was following. It touched him really deeply that she cared about such things when he didn't. His face shifted into a smile. "You didn't have to do something for it."

"I wanted to," she informed him. "It did not seem right for you to just add another number to your age on New Year's without any sort of celebration, even just a private one. But, of course, now the surprise is ruined," she mumbled, pouting.

"Not at all – I am _very_ surprised. I wasn't expecting this at all," he informed her.

She gave him a look. "You know what I meant. It's not even the first day of winter anymore," she mumbled in disappointment.

"I'll tell you what – winter has ninety days on average. There is little more than a one percent chance my birthday was on the first day of it, so, for the sake of argument, let's assume it's on the second one instead."

She didn't look impressed by his suggestion. "But then you'll already know what your present is," she stated, referring to her lace garment.

"I'm still very much looking forward to seeing you in it again." And do all those things he'd been imagining ever since…

She huffed. He was just too easy-going for his own good sometimes. "Well, as it stands, I don't think you'll last long enough for me to dry myself off and put it back on," she informed him, referring to the sensation of something hard poking her front. He, as expected, both blushed and averted his eyes from hers like he had before. "I imagine we'll be forced to make do with this shower and leave the real gift for the morning."

"The… the shower?!" he sputtered in mild shock. Strange as it might sound for an adventurous couple like them, their intimacy had never quite made it to the shower before… The fact that it had only been three months since they'd first consummated their relationship and a mutual love for cuddling up in baths (which reserved water-related intimacy for such occasions) had been contributing factors. "Isn't that _dangerous_?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Nonsense. We are elite mages. Something as measly as a shower couldn't put a dent on us."

He vaguely felt like she might be seeing things the wrong way. But, indeed, he was far too aroused at the moment to really ponder that and the fact that her hand was brushing the skin under his navel, headed down for an expedition down south wasn't helping at all.

"Well, if you say so…" he final agreed.

Famous last words.

* * *

><p>"Ouch," he moaned as the needle went a tad too deep into his scalp as Porlyusica stitched him up.<p>

Not surprisingly, the shower _had _put a dent on them.

"Quit whining, boy," the old woman admonished him. "If you're old enough to show up at my doorstep in the middle of the night with a sex injury, you're old enough to take the stitches that come with it like a man."

"Sex injury?! Who said anything about a sex injury?" Erza demanded in a shrill tone, blushing deep, deep red.

The old woman gave her a look that said 'don't try to screw with me'. "You think this is the first time one of you fairies walks in here with one of these? Lacerated scalp for him, bummed hip for you, unrelated bruising especially around the neck area, wet hair… let me guess, you tried to get creative in the shower."

Erza looked like she wanted to dig a hole and hide in it for all eternity and Jellal wasn't much better although, in a misguided attempt to help, he tried to provide some justification.

"It's sort of my birthday," he mumbled.

"Jellal!" Erza admonished in horror because he might as well have just admitted to everything.

"Happy damn birthday, then," she replied, not sounding very sincere. "Have some embroidery – that way you can't say I didn't give you anything," she added, placing another stitch.

"_Ouch!_"

They should have just stuck to the lace.

**The End**


End file.
